Lapse
by IAmTheGrayArea
Summary: Thomas wagers one of his friends against WCKD. He gains more than he expected, but may lose more than he imagined.
1. Chapter 1

LOCATION: HOLDING FACILITY

PURPOSE: TEMPORARY SETTLEMENT FOR IMMUNES POST-MAZE STAGE

 **WARNING** : SUBJECTS THOMAS, MINHO, NEWT, THERESA, ARIS, FRY, WINSTON HAVE ATTEMPTED A FAILED ESCAPE

THEY KNOW WE ARE WCKD

X

"What is it?" Janson asked, pushing his way into the surveillance room.

Immediately, he noticed all of the guards huddled around a single set of computer screens.

"Is it Thomas?" he asked, bitterly.

"Subjects Thomas and Newt, sir."

"Move," he ordered, as guards shifted for him to see the screens.

Scanning the monitors, he quickly found Thomas and Newt in the barracks they'd provided them. They stood near one of the bunks.

Nothing unusual. They'd secluded the group away from the others, safe, until further orders from Paige.

Irritated, he looked toward the guard in charge. "What am I looking at?"

The man opened and closed his mouth, twice, without speaking.

" _Speak_."

"There's been a development," the man answered, stumbling slightly over his words. "One we thought important for you to know."

"One we thought you'd like to know," another said.

"Which is?" His words sharp, unkind.

Their eyes were back on the screen.

He looked again, pausing at what he saw. His mouth fell slack, as he watched.

He moved closer, making certain he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

He was.

Thomas and Newt were kissing.

X

"This is bloody insane," Newt said, back against the bunk. He was nervous.

"Don't look at the cameras," Thomas instructed.

"You think they'll believe this?" Newt asked.

Thomas grinned. "I bet they've already radioed for Janson."

As if in response, the distinct sound of a camera focusing in and out sounded near the entrance of the room.

Thomas's eyebrows flicked, confident. "Got 'em."

Newt shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Ready to do this?"

Staring, determined, as Thomas always did, he nodded.

Thomas was the one to lean in first, Newt merely responding.

At first, the kiss was simple. Thomas' lips against his own, firm and steady. Then his hands moved up to the sides of his face, and down his back.

Initially, the moment was too strange, too intense, he nearly pulled away – because this was ridiculous. _This_ was mental. Just another one of Thomas' half-baked ideas.

Then Thomas turned his head, and deepened the kiss. Their mouths open, Thomas' hands in his hair…

Despite the intensity, he refrained from breaking the character… Thomas' directive clear in his mind: 'Make it look believable.'

Strong hands gripped onto his hips, and he spoke. The word out before he could stop it.

"Tommy—" It was said as… an impulse? An inquiry? A _protest_?

Thomas shoved him down onto the bottom bunk, in one certain movement.

A second later, Thomas crawled in on top of him. He allowed it.

Nestling into the nook of his neck, Thomas stopped. "You okay?" he asked, his tone honest, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

He considered the question, this time. "I'm okay."

And Thomas kissed him again, rhythmic and certain.

They did this for longer than he expected them to.

Both made slight sounds when Thomas broke contact.

Rushed, Thomas made a show of shoving the thin comforter under the crevice of the top bunk to create a curtain around their bunk, to give the illusion of wanted privacy.

In the seclusion, away from the cameras, WCKD, and Janson, he settled his breathing. "We did it."

Thomas glanced over him, silent at first. "Yeah." He moved to sit against the wall, knees up.

He sat up, too. "Are you okay, Tommy?"

"Yeah..." Thomas said, assuredly, but there was something in his tone Newt didn't quite believe. "Good job."

X

Janson watched the static screen, the makeshift curtain unmoving.

Thomas and Newt.

He was surprised.

He always thought Theresa had the only hold on Thomas, yet, then again, he'd learned long ago never to underestimate Thomas. If anything, Newt was now just another weak spot for him to manipulate.

"Commands, sir?"

"Commands?" he repeated. "I have none. Leave them."

Thomas could do whatever he wanted, to whoever he wanted, in his bunk.

In his bunk, he was containable.

If anything, he should thank Newt.

For distracting him.

He turned to exit.

"There are no commands, sir?" A guard asked, again, to clarify.

"Oh, no," he said, at the precipice of the doorway, smirk on his lips. "There are never no commands."

The men and women straightened, in attention.

"Secure Newt," he ordered, glancing one last time at the screen. "As soon as he's… unoccupied."

Just as he used Theresa against Thomas, he'd do the same with Newt.

Except, this would be much more fun.

Newt was much less valuable.

X

Food trays were delivered to their bunk.

They no longer went to the mess hall with the others.

They ate together.

"You'll have to be a lot more careful, now that you're a target," Thomas said.

Newt sat on the ground, with Aris and Winston. "I know."

"Batty idea, Thomas," Minho said. "But we're ready."

"All of us," Fry echoed.

His face was the first to go numb.

But, even then, it took him a while to understand what was happening.

His throat felt weird, he couldn't swallow, his hands felt clumsy.

He heard the sound of his tray knocking over, finding himself on his back.

"Newt! Newt!" Thomas was the first at his side. The others falling quickly, to form a circle around him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

 _Poison, Thomas_.

The door to the barrack opened.

"Trouble in paradise?" Janson asked, as introduction.

"Janson!" Thomas demanded. "What have you done to him?"

"Oh, nothing," Janson answered. "Just experimenting with different ingredients."

Thomas charged, at Janson, but there were too many guards.

He felt his body begin to convulse, as all of the activity around him blurred.

There was yelling. So much yelling.

And then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke to pain, and bright white walls.

He tried to move but his limbs were too heavy. Bright lights blurred his vision, but he still recognized Janson's face as he leaned over him.

"Bloody bastard."

"Good. You're awake."

He was on a hospital bed, or a _gurney_. He could feel needles lodged everywhere along his arms.

"You poisoned me," he tried to accuse, but his current state didn't allow for him to show much vehemence.

"Not poisoned. Sedated," Janson corrected. "Unfortunately, until further word is given, all of you miscreants will remain here, and remain a headache for me."

Now he could see his ankles were strapped down to the bed. A dozen tubes, carrying a liquid to or from his body, were attached to multiple machines around him.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Running tests to see if you're worth the trouble you're causing," Janson answered, vaguely. "Or to see if you're worth anything at all. That is, other than to Thomas…"

He was prepared for this. "Yeah? What's it to you?"

Janson only smiled. It was never smart for an enemy to reveal his weak spot.

Truth was, he was running the same tests on Newt that all of the kids were eventually subjected to. But this little British twat didn't need to know this.

What Newt, and especially Thomas, needed to learn, was that they weren't in control.

Their futures belonged to WCKD.

X

This was the plan.

They had taken Newt.

It had happened abruptly.

But this was the plan.

They were ready.

He knew revealing a weakness, someone close to him… someone closer than the rest, would be used against him by WCKD. And it had worked like a charm.

"Stay focused," Minho said, beside him. "We handed Newt to them on a silver platter. We need to make sure we hold up our end of the bargain. For Newt."

"I know." He knew better than any of them.

He glanced around the barrack. Everyone was silent, apprehensive.

 _Click_

The lock to their door shifted, like clockwork.

9 pm.

The schedule was always the same. After dinner, they were given one opportunity to leave their barrack. Monitored, they were allowed into one room only: the bathroom. After that, they were locked away for the rest of night.

9 pm.

A doctor lingered nearby, but no one else.

He softened his expression, widening his eyes. "Doctor?"

The man turned. "I'm a nurse. And it's Justin."

Encouraging. "Would it be possible to get another blanket?" He stiffened his body, bringing his arms into his chest. "It feels like it's below freezing in here."

"One blanket per bed," Justin said. "It's protocol."

He wasn't surprised the nurse followed the code of conduct, but he acted like he was.

"There are no surplus supplies," the nurse continued, but there was guilt in his voice.

After a bloated moment, the nurse's shoulders sank. "Look, I'll see what I can do. But I can't promise anything."

The man disappeared.

"Thank you, Justin," Newt said, under his breath, shoving what few layers he had off himself. Roughly, he yanked all of the wires from his arms.

Loud beeping erupted immediately.

He reached down to loosen the harnesses around his legs.

He slipped his legs out, jumping from the bed just as the nurse jogged back into the room.

"Hey! What are you—"

Newt was ready. Ripping the fire extinguisher from the wall, he threw his entire body weight into flinging it into the side of the nurse's head.

He'd been eyeing that fire extinguisher for hours.

The nurse fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

He spun around, tearing the extension cords from the wall to shut off the incessant beeping, and moved to hover over the nurse. Ripped the access card from the man's lanyard, he fled the room.

His head wasn't clear, and his body was weak, but he knew what he had to do.

For the others.

For Thomas.

X

The usual escort of guards awaited them in the hallway.

Thomas was first to exit.

"Evening," Minho said, behind him.

The bathrooms were at the very end of the long hallway.

He walked slower than usual.

"Pick it up!" a guard ordered, masked with gun poised.

He didn't. If they were allowed to kill them, they would have. WCKD was keeping them. So, the barrel positioned to his back lost its luster.

Minho fell back, to his side.

"Six," Minho stated, under his breath.

Six guards, for six occupants.

Except now they were missing Newt.

They were outnumbered.

They reached the bathrooms. They were given 30 minutes total.

Wordlessly, him and a few others took showers. The rest occupied the sinks.

The air of routine, and normalcy, screamed in their silence.

Despite their alertness.

Whenever Newt signaled, they were ready to act.

X

Using the key card, Newt passed through a fourth locked door, travelling deeper into the restricted area.

His objective?

To get as far as he can.

There were eyes on him, he was sure of it.

He ran, as fast as he could, until he reached the bodies. The ones Thomas had spoken of, hanging from the ceiling, like cow carcasses in a butcher house.

He didn't want to look, but it was oddly mesmerizing.

He circled in place. The room large.

There were so many rows of people.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Janson's voice, snide, came from behind him.

He stiffened, already feeling the guns leveled at his back.

"I thought I'd take a tour," he answered, then motioned to the unconscious occupants. "Get to know the neighbors."

Janson, with a half a dozen guards, took slow, steady steps closer to him.

He took equal steps backwards.

"This is the better life you promised them?" he asked.

"These kids are going to save the human race," Janson said.

"These kids will be dead by then."

Janson didn't deny, or apologize. "It's not like you to act in solidarity, Newt. All of your little friends are behaving themselves, why aren't you?"

Thanks, for the perfect cue.

He sprinted off, cutting out of sight just as the first bullets were fired.

Drawing his pursuers deeper, he ran toward what looked most important: an epicenter from where all of the cords and tubes were generating. He didn't know if it was a power source, or where the extractions were being analyzed, but he could tell it was important.

Especially when the earsplitting sirens went off.

He flung himself into the nearest small nook, trying to stifle his breathing.

The longer the sirens went off, and the longer he could stay hidden, the better.


End file.
